Spawn: Noir
by Twiztid Madrox
Summary: My version of Spawn, told in Noir fashion, inspired by the Marvel Noir universe. A series of brutal murders unlike anything Sam has seen, and with a rookie Twitch on his side, this is the oddest story of his career.
1. Chapter 1: Good job Rook'

**Spawn: Noir**

Damn. This is the 3rd stiff in a week to show up in these god forsaken alleys. What it is about this place that just draws death. I wouldn't want to be one of these bums when this kind of shit goes down. Bullet riddled corpses round every corner, and me, with a rookie partner staring at them like steak dinners.

Limbs thrown around like bad jokes, blood painted on the buildings like some freaks own personal death mural. Something was going on here, and it ain't good. And I have a question. The same damn question that's bothered me since the first wise guy decided to have his ticket punched in front of this here restaurant.

Why in Jesus h Christ's name is it on my beat.

Dumb luck I guess.

Same damn luck that made that bastard Santa Claus stiff me outta that tricycle when I was five.

My partner, a rookie, decided to ask the bums some questions. I figured I'd let him and see if I could get a kick out of it, at least laugh at something.

''Has there been anyone suspicious in the alleys recently'' he asked. With a pen in his right hand and a small notepad in his left. Scratching something I bet is about as unimportant as what the smelly bastard in front of him was going to say. The pencil in his hand made a polygraph noise by the second.

The homeless guy had on a pair of mismatched loafers, a grungy pin striped shirt, with ratty matted down hair tucked under a soiled knit cap. This guy couldn't have fit the cliché anymore if he tried.

''You got any dough?'' he asked my partner. A typical question that I got my first few months, and I used to fall for it, then I learned the bastards never knew a damn thing, and it was a waste of money.

''No sir, this is a police investigation, we don't do that sort of thing'' that was surprising, but what wasn't, was the reaction.

It's the first time he'd been baptized in a homeless persons piss.

Welcome to the force rook.

''Thank you for your time, I appreciate your help, and stay out of trouble''

The bum said something along the lines of 'fuck off' before returning to his fridge box for some sleep. No more than twenty feet from where some scum's body was dumped.

I let my cigarette make a flick of light when it hit the ground. The butt's taste was still on lips as I lit another. A pack a day I always say.

The taste soothes me in ways that this job needed. The rookie waved the smoke from his face as I breathed it out. He had a few age lines for someone barely in his twenties, small lips, very womanly but stern. I let the smoke blow in his face. I hated pretty boys.I figured the stubble under his nose made him look like Hitler. He hated it was I said that. But I bust his balls like an ex-wife just to keep him on his toes.

Soft, I need to break him.

''So any luck with the stiff?'' I asked. My gruff voice usually made guys nervous. But this guy never let me know if he was. The bastard didn't even twitch when I pulled my gun out on him before to test his reflexes.

''Hey Twitch, Im talking to you'' I nicknamed him that since he doesn't. I thought it was clever.

''Im sorry, Sir, I was looking over my notes.'' He said.

''According to my notes, The man whose body parts are so carefully strewn over the alley, is Johnny ''the goat'' Triviotti, aged at about 19. Second son of Hugo triviotti the 2nd, known drug trafficker and high number runner.''

Damn, the runt knows his business, He wasn't paying the smelly guy any mind at all. He was keeping him away from the crime scene, and took notes of things around him. How?

''Well why don't you give me the man's dick size while you're at it, What is his pancreas doing between the sports pages of some bums pillow'' I said, I wouldn't tell him I was impressed. Even if I was…a little.

''That sir, is the question that I cant answer as of yet. Im still trying to make sense of the strangulation marks'' he said

Strangulation marks? I didn't notice it at first, but when I look a little further, I realize again that he was right.

''They look like chains marks'' I said. I hoped that I impressed him this time. The marks looked like tire treads across his neck. Sorry way to go if you're a good person, justice for a scum bag like him.

''If I may sir, I would like to take some pictures of the victim'' he says

I tell him that's not his job, but I figured that he had his reasons. While his flash bulbs sparked the darkness of the alley, I sparked up a fresh cigarette. The taste of the tar couldn't cleanse the bad taste I had for this case. What the hell did this?

And did I want to really find it.

Twitch took about twenty five pictures, getting closer to the body parts than I would. I like to keep my distance from corpses. Can't beat the truth out of them at that point, so my interest isn't there.

''I was wondering if you'd get your ass down here''

I heard the voice behind me, like the sweet sound of a old hag whore asking for a tip after she skinned you with her teeth.

Chief Banks, a bastard of a bastard.

Long time cop, Long time soldier, Long time pain in the ass

''To what do I owe the pleasure, Banks'' I asked. I never called him chief, ever. In my opinion he never truly earned the position. Given the spot after the original Chief found himself on the unfriendly end of the mob boss Tony Twist's favorite goons bullet. The just as much of a bastard, Jason Wynn pulled the right strings of the right ass and we got a new Chief of police. A spot I long earned.

Instead

I got myself in charge of the last five rookies of the force.

Up until Twitch, not a shred of potential was in the lot of em.

''Well, I'm sure as hell not here to hold your gun, Burke, What's the details. And they better be damn good''

If only I could pistol whip the smirk off his face.

''Well, As you can tell by the no longer attached body parts, we gotta a no longer breathing Johnny ''the goat''. From the Triviotti family. Third from that family to be dumped in this alley in the past week. My guess is someone from the other families are picking em off one by one to take over this turf''

I don't like giving my assumtions to that prick, I was saying it to him since I wanted Twitch to know what I thought anyway.

The cigarette butt crunched under my foot, barely audible over my annoyance for the chief.

''How's the rookie, what have you found'' he asked him, I could have punched him right there.

(End first chapter)


	2. Chapter 2:Bastard of a Bastard

**Part 1: Continued, Sam perspective **

''The Rook's doing alright Chief, I didn't know post retirees still cared about the little people'' he thought I didn't mean to say that out loud. Not many people had the stones to talk to him like that. I did, and that ate at him like a tapeworm fresh off a diet.

''I'm glad that your find this so damn funny Burke. This is the third body this week, and you have come up with next to nothing, any reason for that?'' he asks me. I tried to hold in any more smart ass comments, I needed to save a few for after lunch. I blew a bit of smoke in his face; let it swirl with a clouds graceful dance. Of course the ghoul that he is, it didn't bother him one bit.

''Thing is Chief, after seven days, I've got a few leads, none that I think want to divulge without further research'' Bull shit

''The thing is, is that type of excuse you use whenever you want to make a donut run, how about I want a 10 page report by tomorrow morning, or I'm docking your Christmas check''

Idiot schmuck

Twitch stood staring at the chief, studying him like the cure for cancer depended on it. I tell him get in the car and we left the scene. The notebook he scribbled into was a mess, half jotted words, inane chicken scratch, and even a few drawings of the area itself. I liked the kid, but he scared the holy bejeezus out of me.

Biting the eraser of his pencil and mumbling things I couldn't hear over the crap motor of the company car. I couldn't help but think about the bodies, they weren't ripped apart by some bear, that's practically impossible since we were in the middle of this god forsaken city. Maybe the zoo is missing one? Perhaps someone thought it'd be funny to let yogi bear out for a stroll and got mauled in the process. What about the chain marks? A bear sure as hades couldn't strangle a man , could it?

''Sir, I have a few theories, but it may take a few hours to piece things together. Perhaps we can convene at my house and go over it'' he asked, Twitch had a way of talking for long periods of time that bored me to an early grave, and after the chief road my backside about the murders, I don't have the patience. Maybe it's time for some hazing,

''I would twitch, thing is, I need a report done for the chief by tomorrow morning, Ten pages…'' I paused. I knew if I waited long enough he's say

''Well, if you'd like, Sir, I could perhaps detail my findings in the report for you, I have a great attention to detail''

Of course he does, and I knew that. I'll read a copy of it when I'm on the can sometime this week. Now, I got other things to tend to.

I drove another ten minutes to Twitch's house, he invited me to meet his fiancé. And looking at the cozy front lawn, ''Maximilion Steven Percival Williams III'' on the mail box, quite a mouthful. And speaking of mouthful, I had to walk away after shaking his fiancés hand, she stood about a foot taller than Twitch, long flowing red hair, like flames falling in a fountain from her hair, legs that belonged on a calendar on my bathroom wall, lucky slag. I told him I'd meet him in the morning.

I can't get the smell out my nose; it clung to my clothes, and stunk up the car. It was almost like…sulphur. Damn…I'm tired.

Then the dreams took over

I was walking alone down an alley, same one from the murders. Flies circles around me ,I swear they were saying something, like little voices whispering to each other about something I probably don't want to hear.

The shiver in my spine and the putrid taste in the back of my throat is over bearing, I couldn't imagine walking any further. Maggots crawled up and through my trench coat, I kept going.

I passed at least a dozen homeless people on their knees, they didn't ask me for any change, they didn't even move out of my way when I walked. They were all bowing to something. I couldn't imagine to what? A box of Jack Daniels that some UPS truck left behind, or maybe even some moldy bread that they decided to share amongst the rest of the poor sleazebags.

That wasn't it. Not until I saw it

A living fabric, blood red, like moving lava, I tried to make out what it was. The wind hadn't picked up, how was it moving so fluidly, was there a vent open in the building? Animating the cloth on its own?

Or something else

Something

Alive

Looking up into the moon I swore I saw something fly above me, like metallic angel's wings gleaming, almost blinding me, a light more powerful that even the moon.

It was then, that the light screamed at me, louder and louder, it sang a song….an old 80's song? Then I woke up slamming my fist on my snooze button.

Time to go to work.

**Part 2: Twitch Perspective**

Sam, my partner for the past few months, just dropped me off at my home. 3:45 am I have accepted the task of writing his report, I agreed since I am trying to do the best I can to impress him. I look up to him, people spoke of him in high regards throughout the department, it is the least I can do for him.

Chief banks, highly decorated in his tenure, seemed to care not able the victims but giving my partner a hard time. Five years ago Sam was up for the chief position, Louis Banks, investigated and acquitted for embezzlement and a oddly unique relationship with one Jason Wynn, a relationship that has yet to be proven, was able to undercut Sam in his run for the position. Sam has been put on lower duty for much of those five years; it's not hard to understand their feud.

The homeless man who spoke to me lipped words that I can make out as…

''The guardian…saved us''

While he looked at me in fear, and urinated on himself, and my shoes, I passed him a twenty for the information and took them down.

Who was the guardian? Was it a fellow homeless person? A illusion, a hallucination or drunken vision?

Will investigate further

The chain marks were thick and pressured across the neck of Johnny Triviotti, also known as ''the goat'', due to the odd growths on his forehead from a birth defect, resembling a goat in its maturation stage.

The second victim, Hugo Triviotti, the second son, was torn into various pieces and sections of his body lay in about ten to fifteen separate radiuses. Making it rather difficult to gauge what could have done this.

A normal reaction to a situation like this is written off as an animal attack. No matter how preposterous it is. I checked the papers to make sure there were no loose bears in the immediate area.

Could the homeless man find a guardian in a reckless bear? Doubtful

My fiancé stares at me, wanting me to come to bed, the sun would be rising in less to two hours, and with me needing to finish this report, she will be alone for another night.

One half hour, thirty minutes was all I was afforded in the way of rest. Not for sleep, but to proof read the report twice over. The ink dried and I showered for the day's work.

She looks at me with a sense of sadness in her eyes. I tell her that I will be home soon. A harmless fabrication of the truth, this case will keep me away from her for days at a time. I kiss her growing stomach. Take care baby, Daddy will be home soon.

Sam arrived approximately six minutes late. It didn't bother me at all. I've worked with him on a all night stake out without his doughnuts, and it was not a pretty picture.

''Hey Twitch, how'd that report treat you'' asked Sam

''Fine, Sir'' I handed it to him; he proceeded to place it under the box of glazed. Im sure he'll read it, he's just busy.

Only three red lights were ran as we made our way to the shooting range. It's not uncomfortable for the department to watch me when I shoot, its more awkward than anything. At times, I want to miss a bulls eye, to stop they're stares, they're admiration, but I can't. I need to stay sharp and on point.

Sam readies himself. He always liked to go first. The Colt Detective Special was his weapon of choice, though it allowed six shots, he always left a single gun in the chamber, superstitious reasons. Two inch barrel, his was a .32, introduced in 1927, not long before today. A handy piece, I have shot one on occasion.

Four bullets down, one more left before his normal end of turn, he waits, a slight shake took over him. I noticed this all morning, something strange happened last night when he left me.

''Is there something wrong Sir?'' I didn't want to pry. So I asked an open ended curiosity.

''Damn things sight is off….I think I need a new one'' he told me. The hesitation told me he was holding back something, this wasn't a lie as it was him trying to protect me from whatever frightened him.

He was wearing a hat, not something he's done often, he always said that hats covered up his ''gorgeous hair'', a witty, and charismatic response that I often smiled at. My turn had arrived.

''Why don't you give it a shot, take a few rounds out the old' girl and see If her dress needs fixin''

His way with words never ceased to amaze me.

I held the revolver in my hand, light,still warm from its last round of firing. I take aim, wonder if perhaps Sam's assumption was right. I squeeze the trigger, it's not restless, it's ready to be fired.

''Burke, What are you doing in here, There's another body in your alley, This time a kid'' said the Chief. While he yelled, I left off 5 of the six newly positioned rounds into the newly positioned target. All dead center, perhaps, Sam is just not in his right mind.

''Lucky son of a bitch'' he said to me sarcastically. I smirked.

''What's the details'' said Sam, putting on his heavy beige trench and lighting his cigar.

''Not my job to tell you that, I thought that's why your getting those fat checks, go find out, and tell your partner, nice job on the report, if you want to pull the wool over these eyes, try writing it in crayon next time. This ain't your caliber of work, Burke'' the slam of the door behind the Chief echoes in the room, shifting the drapery off of its hinge. The anger is getting worse between these two, and Im afraid, I may not be able to stop the coming storm, all I can ask is to not get wet in the cross fire.

''Damnit, another body. A kid, It's too early for this'' he said.

''Indeed Sir, Perhaps some breakfast on the way?''

''I already ate twice, but good idea, I know a good omelets dive near the alley, we can pick up a few.'' said Sam

''Good, sir''

**Chapter 3: (Jason Wynn perspective: Coming soon)**


End file.
